Trust Me (48 page)

Yet fed up as May often was, she always woke on her day off feeling joyful and expectant. Sometimes she even thought fleetingly she was lucky. She had after all, with Mrs Wilberforce’s help, managed to distance herself from Mother. She called twice in the first month May started the job, but Mrs Wilberforce made it plain she didn’t like unexpected visitors, and since then she’d only telephoned occasionally. May could cope with telephone conversations and it was easy enough to wriggle out of any invitations to lunch by saying Mrs Wilberforce needed her that day. As long as Mother knew she was doing her job properly, attending night school and going to Mass every Sunday, she had no excuse to call round. The relief May felt that she would never again have to submit to her degrading, perverted embraces, was enough to make her feel affection for the woman who stood between herself and Mother. Maybe this was only on good days, when she hadn’t burnt, broken or spoilt something and Mrs Wilberforce praised her. Yet deep down she knew her mistress was a fair, good-hearted woman who really did have May’s future at heart, and even if not entirely happy with her lot, she knew she could be considerably worse off.

May lay down on her towel. The sun was growing hotter by the minute, but for now she was happy to feel it searing into her skin until she was so hot she’d be forced to go in for a swim. She wondered if Dulcie went to the beach much where she was, and if there was more than she’d said to the postponing of the wedding.

May was really surprised when Dulcie wrote last July to say she was marrying Ross in January. She had enclosed a photograph of them together and May’s first thought on seeing the face of her future brother-in-law was that he looked so very ordinary and had nothing in common with James Dean as Dulcie claimed, apart from a lopsided smile. The letter was full of Dulcie-isms, going on about how excited she was at the prospect of having her own home, even if it was only to be a caravan, how she didn’t even know Ross loved her until he proposed, and how much she hoped May would be her bridesmaid, and she thought she’d look gorgeous in pale blue satin, and she must send her exact measurements to her so she could get the dress made.

On the strength of this May had asked Mrs Wilberforce if she could have a week’s holiday in January, and it was agreed she could.

It was nearly the end of November when Dulcie wrote to say Betty French was very ill, and under the circumstances she and Ross didn’t feel they could go ahead with the wedding in January. May couldn’t imagine why Betty being ill should upset plans for a wedding, but Mrs Wilberforce said it might be because Dulcie was actually nursing her, along with all her other duties, and she was just too harassed to cope with a wedding too.

‘You wouldn’t catch me nursing some old farmer’s wife,’ May thought as she lay in the sun.

The heat of the sun suddenly lessened. May’s eyes shot open to find the tall, dark-haired man was standing beside her casting a shadow over her face.

‘Sorry to disturb you, love,’ he said. ‘Got a light?’

May guessed this had to be an excuse to talk to her. She didn’t believe that none of his friends had a box of matches or a lighter. He was even better-looking close up than he’d been from a distance, dark, sleepy-looking eyes, a golden tan and a muscular physique. ‘I think so,’ she said, sitting up and reaching for her bag. She rummaged in it and pulled out a box of matches.

‘Want one?’ he said, holding out a packet of cigarettes to her.

‘Thanks,’ she replied, taking one, but handed the matches to him.

He knelt down on the sand beside her and struck a match, lighting first her cigarette, then his own. ‘Do you live round here?’ he asked after taking a puff.

‘Nearby, in Peppermint Grove,’ she said.

He settled back on his heels, looking at her appraisingly. ‘Rich dad, huh?’

May just shrugged. It wasn’t her intention for him to take that as confirmation, she just wasn’t used to talking to men, and this one was at least twenty-four, with the skimpiest red bathers she’d ever seen, and the huge bulge inside them was unavoidable.

‘I said to my mates that’s a rich sheila if ever I saw one,’ he said with a wide grin, showing very white teeth. ‘But you’re a Pom, aren’t you? I didn’t expect that. You just here for a holiday?’

She nodded, delighted that he thought she looked like a rich girl. She couldn’t disillusion him now by telling him she was a maid. His voice was rough, and judging by his muscles he did a labouring job of some kind, maybe he didn’t even have one if he could spend a Wednesday on a beach.

‘I’m May,’ she said, feeling she had to try to act sophisticated and confident. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Nev,’ he said. ‘So how long are you here for?’

May’s brain always seemed to work faster when she was intending to make something up. She’d only seen him once before, but for all she knew he might have seen her dozens of times since November when she first came down to this beach. ‘I’ve been here a while already, I don’t know how much longer we’re staying, Daddy’s here on business.’

He nodded. ‘How old are you, May?’

‘Seventeen,’ she lied.

He stayed after he’d finished his cigarette, firing questions at her, and May lied to all of them. They were staying with her aunt and uncle, her mother was back home in England, and her father had taken her along on the trip so she’d see something of the world before going back home to a finishing school. Effortlessly she drew upon things Mrs Wilberforce had told her and painted a picture of a spoilt little darling who had wanted for nothing in her entire life.

Nev didn’t give much of himself away. He said he was taking a holiday before going over to the East Coast to work. He used the expression ‘Subbie’s’ when he referred to his friends, so she took it that they all came from Subiaco, an older part of Perth she’d been through on the train while going into town.

They went for a swim together, had several more cigarettes, and still he didn’t go back to join his mates.

‘I’d better get out of the sun now,’ she said eventually. She could feel her shoulders getting very hot. ‘I was thinking of going along to that café further down the beach.’

‘I’d like to go with you and buy you a drink,’ he said. ‘But I didn’t bring any money down here with me this time because the last time I came I had my wallet pinched while I was in the sea.’

‘I’ll buy you one,’ she offered. She thought he was lovely and she didn’t want to take the chance he’d shoot off if she left.

‘I don’t like bludging off sheilas,’ he said.

May grinned at him. ‘I’m not a sheila, I’m May, and I wouldn’t call accepting one drink “bludging”. Anyway, I can’t stay here, I’m burning.’

So he went with her, only returning to his mates long enough to pick up a pair of shorts and a shirt.

May went home to View Road at four. She hoped Mrs Wilberforce would be out so she could shower, change and get out again before she came back, but that wasn’t to be. She was sitting on the upstairs veranda reading a book and saw May coming through the gate.

‘You shouldn’t have stayed out in the sun for so long,’ she tutted disapprovingly as she met her at the top of the stairs.

‘I wasn’t out in it for very long,’ May said. ‘I met one of the girls from night school on the beach, we sat under the café awning and had a chat.’

‘That was nice for you to have some company.’ The older woman smiled with real warmth. ‘What’s her name?’

‘Belinda,’ May said, the first name that came into her head. ‘She asked me to go to the pictures with her this evening. I just came home to ask you if that was all right.’

‘Of course it’s all right, it’s your day off. I’m glad to hear you’ve made a friend.’ Mrs Wilberforce beamed. ‘I believe
Funny Face
with Audrey Hepburn is on at the Piccadilly. Is that what you’re going to see?’

‘I don’t think Belinda knew what was on,’ May said. ‘I hope it’s that. But I’d better rush, because she’s waiting for me at the station.’

‘Why didn’t you bring her home for a cup of tea?’ Mrs Wilberforce asked. ‘I’d like to have met her.’

‘I didn’t like to, not without asking first,’ May said.

She was off to her room in a flash, stripping off her dress and the still damp swimsuit beneath it. Nev was going to meet her at Perth station at half past six. Now she had to make herself look like the rich girl he took her for.

As she stood under the shower, letting the water wash away all the salt in her hair, she felt so happy she could burst. Nev was just what she wanted in a boyfriend, tall, dark and handsome, a bit tough so she felt protected, easy to talk to and not too smart, so she didn’t feel inferior. She had met both of the Wilberforces’ sons at Christmas, and though they were both nice-looking, and the kind of well-mannered, successful men she’d wanted to attract, she knew immediately by the way they kind of looked beyond her when they were introduced that she could never hope to find a boyfriend in that league, not while she was still a maid.

But she could cut her teeth on working-class Nev. He was impressed by her, maybe even a little intimidated too. Through him she might even meet someone else with a good job and a car. Besides, he made her feel all funny inside.

He had walked her home as far as the Cottesloe shops over the railway bridge from the beach and kissed her goodbye. She had been so afraid that when she was finally kissed by a man it would feel as repulsive as being kissed by Mother, but it wasn’t a bit like that. It was sweet, heady, a taste of something utterly new and compelling. She couldn’t wait for more.

‘I bet you won’t come tonight,’ he said, his dark eyes all sorrowful. ‘You’ll go on into your posh house and think, what do I want with a bloke like that?’

‘Of course I won’t,’ she said, tempted then to tell him she was only the maid. But she was enjoying the playacting, and anyway he might not like her as much if he knew the truth.

An hour later she was ready. She wasn’t entirely pleased with her hair, normally she washed it at night and set it with her new set of fat plastic rollers that made it go all slinky and wavy, but without a hair-dryer she couldn’t get that effect in an hour, so she’d had no choice but to let it dry naturally. With her pink dress with the bell-shaped skirt, her white peep-toe shoes, gloves and handbag, she felt glamorous enough to knock anyone out, and she would put on more lipstick when she got out of the house.

‘You look lovely, May,’ Mrs Wilberforce said as she came down the stairs. ‘Now, make sure you get home by ten, won’t you?’

‘Yes, Mrs Wilberforce.’ May forced a dutiful smile. She hoped Nev wouldn’t mind her having to go home so early. But she’d already told him her father was a bit strict.

‘Make sure you don’t spend your fare home either,’ the woman added. ‘My boys were always doing that when they were your age. I can’t count the times they had to walk home.’

May smirked. She had all her money in her handbag, over fifteen pounds. If she was playing at being a rich girl she needed the props to make it convincing.

May got to Perth station far too early, and so she went into the waiting-room and sat there till half past six rather than hanging around outside looking eager.

When she finally went out, there he was, wearing a white open-necked shirt and jeans, leaning against the wall. She was a little dismayed that he was dressed so casually, but he was so handsome that faded very quickly.

‘I thought I’d take you to King’s Park,’ he said as he took her hand. ‘It’s too hot for the pictures.’

May was disappointed. King’s Park made her think of Mother, because she often took her there. Her white shoes weren’t comfortable for walking a long way, and besides, she’d got the idea this afternoon that Nev wanted to show her off to all his mates. But it
was
too hot for the pictures, and perhaps he thought the park would be more romantic, so she said nothing.

He asked her about England as they walked, and as May remembered so little about it, she just told him things Mrs Wilberforce had told her. How cold it was there in January, of tobogganing down hillsides and ice-skating on a frozen pond.

‘What are the Teddy boys like?’ he asked, throwing May completely. ‘Do they really rip up the cinema seats and stuff?’

May had never even heard the name, let alone knew what they were like. ‘Oh, there aren’t any where I live,’ she said.

‘But I read in the paper that the craze had swept over the whole of England,’ he insisted.

‘Maybe it started after I left,’ she ventured. She listened to his description of their long drape jackets, their hair pulled out in a quiff in front and long sideburns, and she was even more mystified.

‘Bill Haley got it started,’ he said. ‘You know, with “Rock around the Clock”.’

May remembered hearing that record at St Vincent’s. It had been on the wireless once while she was in Mother’s study. She’d switched it off almost immediately and made some remark about it being music of the Devil, but the tune had stayed in May’s head. Mrs Wilberforce didn’t put the wireless on unless it was for a play,
Woman’s Hour
or the news, so she never heard popular music there either. All she knew of it were snatches of songs coming out of milk bars or pubs, never enough to get to know what song it was, or who sang it. In a flash May realized she had to find out about such things or look like an ignorant little country mouse.

‘My family don’t go for that kind of stuff,’ she said apologetically. ‘They listen to classical music.’

Nev talked about his friends, one of whom had a Ford Zephyr, and how they would ride up to Scarborough beach at the weekends, get blazing drunk, get into fights and sleep on the beach. To May that sounded dreadful, yet it was another pointer to how cloistered her life had been at St Vincent’s and still was. Even as she made a coy remark about how exciting it sounded, she found it did give her a thrill. Maybe Nev was just what she needed to find a whole new kind of world.

‘Me mates all want to go to England now,’ he said. ‘That’s why we’re going east to work, you can earn more on the buildings there, and save quicker.’

‘Why d’you want to go to England?’ she asked curiously.